


Light.

by fuuckya



Category: One Direction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-03
Updated: 2013-04-03
Packaged: 2017-12-07 08:35:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/746498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuuckya/pseuds/fuuckya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No matter how many times Louis’ tells himself that he’s 21 and a grown man he still can’t help but feel a little scared being alone in such silence. Everyone is a little afraid of the dark.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Light.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the recent events of Harry in LA. I like to think that Louis was moping around at home and missing him, waiting for him to get back, like a lonely puppy. It's my favourite headcannon.
> 
> I've been having a lot of Larry feels recently and the only way I know how to get rid of them is to write about it. Also, I've been feeling pretty restless lately, so there's that.
> 
> Honestly, I think this is really shit, but I wanted to post it because I wrote it (as therapy?). So if you decide to continue on to the story. I hope you enjoy :)

There’s a small bang of a sound and it startles Louis, making him jerk in bed. He’s tucked up in an oversized jumper and attempting to read a book Zayn has leant him. The yellow light of the lamp beside him is bathing the room in a soft glow, it’s peaceful. 

Kinda.

The lamp, although creating an ambiance, also shows the stark shadows that lurk in the corners of the room, blackened shapes hiding along the shelves of books, the legs of tables. It shows the deep darkness that sits behind the bedroom door, visible in the crack between the bottom of the door and the carpet. 

Outside his sanctuary of light is Harry’s massive, mansion of a house, empty, quiet, dark. 

No matter how many times Louis’ tells himself that he’s 21 and a grown man he still can’t help but feel a little scared being alone in such silence. Everyone is a little afraid of the dark.

This fear is really accentuated by the feeling of being alone, of missing Harry. When it comes down to it, that’s all it is.

Harry is in LA doing some recordings and Louis’ is in London, housesitting a house that no one lives in, because Harry lives with _him_ a few minutes’ drive away in _their_ house.

He’s not sure whether it’s worse for his psyche being cuddled up alone in Harry’s house or in the one they share together. At least there is no memories here, no life. 

Okay, so he’s getting a little over dramatic and dark now, he’s feeling like Edgar Allen Poe or Stephen King or someone just as dark and mournful. He sighs loudly and puts his book down and takes his glasses off.

He turns off the light and crawls under the covers.

He’s grateful that in the pitch blackness he can’t see the suspicious looking shadows. 

Two more days to go.

-

He wakes up early the next morning and stumbles down into the kitchen. He can’t sleep in without someone else there with him. 

He boils the kettle and makes some tea and sits on the kitchen counter as he waits.

Harry’s house is huge. The ceilings are high and all the walls and carpets are white, sterile. There are millions of rooms, empty and echo-y and it feels cold here, unloved.

The house is open-planned, Louis can see into the dining room and then in extension, the lounge. He could probably bring all his mates around and play a game of football in here and get exhausted from running around. 

Niall said it’s because Louis is so small that the house looks so big. Louis punched him in the balls.

Louis misses Harry, and it’s silly because they’re always together. It’s nice having a break from him, but after two days he starts to feel like he’s missing a limb or something. Having someone around so much, being crammed together in small buses and small hotel rooms and big beds, becomes normal, familiar.

His tea boils and he makes himself one cup.

One lonely cup.

-

The thing about Harry is, he takes up a lot of room. He’s bright and happy and his voice carries beautifully in the wind. 

He’s spacious with his broad shoulders and his laugh. He always comes up and kisses Louis and Louis misses him a lot. It hurts a little bit.

-

That night he’s cold and the darkness is creeping up on him again. The shadows are conspiring. Only one more day.

He turns on all the lights in the house and puts the TV on mute. His IPod is hooked up to the central sound system that blasts through every room in the house. 

He doesn’t turn the heater on because he hates the thought of wasting all that heat for himself. Instead he wraps himself in three blankets on sits in the corner of the couch. The black leather stretches on and on, wraps like a snake around the room and could fit a hundred people. Louis sings,

_Ahh Home._

_Let me come home._

_Home is where ever I’m with you._

-

The next day Harry gets home just as the sun sets. His hair is messy and eyes are heavy and Louis tackles him even before he has a chance to kick off his shoes.

‘Oh my god, Oh my god,’ Louis chants softly, nose cold against the skin on Harry’s neck, ‘I missed you so much.’

Harry laughs a little, leaving his chest feeling light. Louis’ knows he’s not making fun of him, knows that he feels the same way. They’re connected like that. 

Instead he feels strong arms wrap around him, holding him close, whispering.

‘Hello, I missed you too.’

\- 

That night the house is alive. The energy is thrumming through the walls like thunder and Louis puts his hand up to the cool plaster and feels it stream through his veins.

Harry is cooking dinner and the smell is beautiful. He's learned a new recipe in California and he desperately wants Louis to try it, he thinks he’ll love it.

Louis can already tell he will, because it’s Harry.

All the lights are on, warm and inviting and peaceful. The heater is blaring, so hot that they are both walking around in their pants and tshirts. The news is playing on the TV behind them, old man droning on and on and it’s soothing, calm.

Harry is telling Louis stories of his trip, eyes sparkling in the many lights of the kitchen, cheeks pink with heat. His hands move in a blur as he speaks and Louis listens to every single word, lets it crawl under his skin and keep him safe.

-

That night they curl up on one end of the couch, Louis tucked into Harry’s side and balled up, small. 

‘This house is so big,’ Louis says and Harry curls himself around him, makes them both small.

‘I know,’ he says casually, fingers tickling up the side of Louis’ arm, sparks fly between their skin, ‘I hate staying here all by myself.’

Louis snuggles closer and Harry squeezes him in response. 

This house is empty and quiet and dark. It echoes and is forever settling in the night. The ceilings are high and the air is cold.

With Harry here everything seems a little nicer, a little brighter, better. 

Louis missed him.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I took lyrics from the song 'Home' by Edward Sharpe and the magnetic zeros. I was that person. Sue Me.


End file.
